Unbearable Pain
by Viniloversus
Summary: Arthur used to love watching his wife knit...


Hello! This little feeling wreckage comes as a submission for both the Words and titles Competition and The Great 2016 Cotillon starters, i do love the Weasley Family and I do have certain weakness for Molly and Arthur, That said, I always wanted to write a story about Fred's death and their reaction or even their grieving over it.

Any grammar issues that I may have, please point them up so I can correct them and learn. English is not a language that I use often, even if I learned it at an early age.

 **Disclaimer: None of the characters or places belong to me, they belong to J.K Rowling**

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Unbearable Pain

He used to love watching his wife knit. It was just something that she did with such love, with such devotion that it was noticeable. He could have spent hours just watching her; her skilful hands threading with the knitting needle through the wool, the smile that he had fallen so in love with curling on her lips as she poured all of her love into the sweater she was knitting, the soft humming abandoning her lips. She looked positively beautiful and it was a delight to watch.

But all those things were missing this time; as Molly's eyes were moist with unshed tears, there was no smile upon her lips, but rather they were morphed into an expression of misery and soft sobs, instead of humming, abandoned her lips every now and then. She had been a shadow of herself lately, but watching her like that, in such a blatant show of despair broke his heart.

Each little sob sounded incredibly painful to his ears, like a cacophony of misery that tore through his heart and made his stomach churn with equal measures of sadness, and his eyes prickle. He could remember just one time when Molly had sounded quite as miserable as she did now, and it had been when her brothers were killed in the first war.

Then, like now, she had cried hopelessly over her knitting, knowing that there was one less sweater to knit now, her hands shook and every now and then little sounds of misery had abandoned her mouth. However, then, unlike now, he had known how to comfort her. He had been there to dry her tears, to hug her and to kiss away her misery. Fabian and Gideon had been his friends too, but he had been able to bury the pain in favour of comforting her. They were her brothers and she had far more of a right to grieve them than him.

But now, now, just the thought of getting up of his chair was overwhelming. He didn't want to think, to breathe, to exist…; they all seemed too tiring, too demanding, too... Unfair. Breathing, existing and thinking, those were all things that Fred was unable to do anymore, and he couldn't help but wish that it had been him. Him and not his son that died. He was older; he was supposed to die first, after all!

It had been a a year and a half ago, but it still felt fresh, raw and no amount of alcohol or sleep had been able to numb the all-encompassing pain that had come with Fred's passing. Everything was dull and gray and depressing. Even things like Molly's knitting failed to engage him, because it was a bitter reminder that there would always be one less sweater; one less son to take care of and to watch grow into the kind of respectable adult he wanted them to be.

How do you comfort someone when you wish to cry just as badly? How can you lend support when you need it so desperately? He had to be strong for his grieving family, he knew, but a part of him just wished that he could bury himself in his covers and stay there, forever. He didn't cry, he hadn't since the day of his son's death, because he feared that he wouldn't be able to stop if he started. But the grief stalked him, followed him like a rotting shadow.

He didn't move, he stayed put and listened, because moving was too much of a demand for his weary mind to bear.

He was surprised when Molly's soft sounds suddenly stopped and he turned to see his wife standing just beside him, looking down at him with moist eyes. Her hand cupped his face, and it wasn't until after he felt the tip of her fingers softly removing a tear from his face that he realised that he was crying as well. He wasn't sure what started it; perhaps it was his Molly's comforting caresses, or the fact that she had been strong enough to overcome her grief when he was not, or perhaps the fact that he had finally allowed himself to cry, even unknowingly; maybe it was a mix of all those things, but suddenly he was burying his head in his hands and crying in earnest, in a way that he hasn't since he was but a boy.

A little part of his mind registered that the chair he was sitting on got bigger and that his wife hands were now softly treading through his hair, and her voice, hoarse from crying, was whispering soothing nonsense to his ears. He sobbed even harder, all the pain he'd pushed aside pouring out at once. She was so strong when he was not, so loving, so caring; so uncaring of her own needs. His hands uncovered his face and his arms enveloped her, knitting needle and all. He joined her whispering, saying sweet things, soothing things, because if he spoke he wasn't quite as miserable.

He didn't know how long they spend like that, crying in each other's arms. But after a long while, they were able to separate. Not much, just a tiny bit. Neither of them could stand the thought of being physically apart so they stayed put, and Molly resumed her knitting. This time she didn't cry or sob, though her hands still shakes a bit, and Arthur watches her, his heart heavy but not as heavy as it had been seconds ago. Together, they had been able to overcome many things; poverty and war, things that would have done away with any marriage, but theirs.

Perhaps together they might be able to overcome this as well.

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So, I almost cried while writing this little thing and I'd like to know what you think. You may not realise it, but your opinion is important for the author out there.

See my eyes (I know you can't, but do indulge me), you are feeling very sleepy...

That little box is calling you... it tells you to type a review for this story and send it...


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